


you showed me colors (i can't see them with anyone else)

by gild_fire



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, and there's rio laughing and using some conversational spanish, idk it's my first fic so let's hope im not doing it wrong lol, kinda silly kinda soft kinda angsty, mick playing puck and I love him for it, there's beth feeling the honey nut feelios and denying they exist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:20:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26952775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gild_fire/pseuds/gild_fire
Summary: “Blinded by brilliant chandeliers in a white marble foyer, Beth squints up at the skyscraper before her. She double-checks her messages and grimaces. Beth had been surprised when Rio texted her to meet at this location, one that was very much out of her way, instead of sticking to their usual routine. She makes her way through the foyer and finds an elevator.When she arrives at apartment seventy-four, Beth tries not to be nervous, but she does spend a minute contemplating whether or not she should knock on the door or ring the bell. With a duffle bag of cash in hand, she decides to knock. And, then she waits.”--Rio asks Beth to make the drop at his new apartment, and Beth is faced with feelings and thoughts she had tried to bury. Takes place after 3.11.
Relationships: Beth Boland/Rio
Comments: 34
Kudos: 155





	you showed me colors (i can't see them with anyone else)

Blinded by brilliant chandeliers in a white marble foyer, Beth squints up at the skyscraper before her. She double-checks her messages and grimaces. _Seems like the right address._ She makes her way through the lobby and finds an elevator. 

When she arrives at apartment seventy-four, Beth tries not to be nervous, but she does spend a minute contemplating whether or not she should knock on the door or ring the bell. With a duffle bag of cash in hand, she presses the doorbell. And, then she waits.

Late evenings at Boland Bubbles with Rio or Mick had become customary at this point. Deceivingly ordinary, the venue was safe from prying eyes and hidden in plain sight. 

So, Beth had been surprised when Rio texted her to meet at this location, one that was very much out of her way, instead of sticking to their usual routine. But, she didn’t have any reason to refuse. If anything, it allowed her to come home later and avoid answering Dean’s inane questions. There were only so many fibs Beth could come up with in a day, and she preferred not to waste them on her husband. 

After a few moments, Beth hears someone talking through the door and a lock clicking before the door swings open. And surprised as she was by the change of plans, Rio looks truly shocked when he sees Beth standing in his hallway. He’s halted mid-sentence, lips parting slightly. The hand holding a cellphone to his ear lowers slowly.

Beth looks at him a little expectantly, but he hasn’t made eye contact yet. His gaze trails down to her coat layered over a keyhole sweater and back up again, as if he isn’t sure what he’s seeing is actually real. As if she was an apparition, or even more unlikely, as if she had brushed up on her stalking skills. 

Under his scrutiny, she’s tempted to make a joke or say something clever to cut the tension. But then she thinks better of it. 

The tense atmosphere was somewhat familiar, and with it came a laser-sharp focus on navigating the situation and Rio’s mercurial mood. Beth lets the discomfort layer onto her like a second coat and decidedly packs away her curiosity. She doesn’t wonder what this change of venue means. She doesn’t give any more thought to how he couldn’t take his eyes off her and how her heart fluttered in quick excitement. 

Catching muffled sounds from Rio’s phone, she offers a smallish smile when his gaze finally meets hers and lifts up the black duffle bag like a poor house-warming gift. 

Pushing his phone back up to his ear and training his eyes on Beth, Rio finally moves aside and lets her in. As she shuts the door behind her, his eyes linger a moment longer before she hears his monosyllabic answers fade away and he pivots to the kitchen to finish up the call. 

Beth stays by the door for a moment, not quite sure if she’ll be walking on steady ground if she ventures any further. Eying a table by the entryway, she notes a bowl with a pair of keys and a lighter. She tries to remind herself that, unlike when she broke in, Rio had given her the address and invited her into his home. And yet, Beth doesn’t feel secure in that knowledge. 

She prefers to meet at neutral places, places where he didn’t have home-court advantage. Places where her heart didn’t flutter without her permission and her eyes couldn’t explore without restraint. But she’s here now, curious as ever and absorbing any details she can. Glancing around a tasteful living room, Beth spots a kitchen on her left.

The walls are dotted with small, muted pieces of art. The sofas are few and far between. The kitchen is highlighted by warm recessed lights. And then there’s Rio—at the center of it all—looking right at home, and slowly, there’s that feeling she wishes she could forget. 

She still can’t name it entirely and it remains abstract, but over time the feeling had turned into a gelatinous blob and then had been refined into something clearer, sharper. 

She didn’t know it at the time, but as she watched shards of glass litter the floor of Boland Motors and took in his sweeping, controlled movements, that nondescript blob morphed into something angular. It had cast long shadows from the most peculiar angles and morphed into a unique shape of its own.

There was this other time—when the roughness of his large hands grasped her own under a table—and for just the briefest of moments, a neon purple blossomed at the core. It didn’t quite seep all the way into the edges, but it was enough for Beth to take notice. 

It wasn’t until a few weeks later when she felt thick, soft wool spill out of a yellow package did the purple darken considerably and shift into a deep burgundy.

So, when she glances around the apartment and sees him languidly leaning back against the granite counter with one leg crossed in front of the other and scrunching up his eyebrows in concentration, the jagged edges of that _something_ soften a little and Beth feels deep burgundy fully color all its corners in rushed waves. 

Her mind wanders off and imagines what it would be like if she wasn’t here to make a drop. If instead she was just coming home, to him. If she could drape her coat over the couch and fix herself a glass of bourbon.

But, just briefly—because then Beth blinks and wants nothing more than to stab the blob to death and deconstruct it back into an unidentifiable puddle. 

In the quiet of the evening, she hears soft bubbling of water on the stove and murmurs of a discussion from Rio’s phone call. _Better to get this over with_ , she thinks before taking a steady step forward. With every step she takes, Beth breathes with relief when the ground doesn’t crack and crumble. Approaching the small seating area next to the kitchen, she places the duffel of washed cash on a chair. 

Fiddling with the duffel bag handle, she feels his stare and warmth spreads to her cheeks. Rio watches Beth carefully as if she’s a bull accidentally let loose in a china shop that is his immaculate apartment. She pushes the feeling aside and turns away from the seating area to finally face him. Beth finds herself returning his stare with a challenging gaze of her own and wondering why he would invite her to his apartment when historically they didn’t have the best experiences at his place.

He seems to be thinking something similar because he tilts his head back and narrows his eyes slightly, as if trying to get a better read of the situation. The air between them thickens with animosity, and Beth feels a little insecure as she recalls his reaction when she appeared at his front door. _Did he doubt I would show up? Does he regret calling me over here? Why did he call me here?_ Folding her hands into her coat pockets, Beth wishes she could get the answer to these questions. But she knows she would have better luck getting her kids to listen to her than getting Rio to actually respond.

After a few more moments of weighted scrutiny, Rio signs off the call. Beth waits, expecting him to finally address her. Instead, he remains focused on his phone and whoever he's texting. And that lights up something within Beth. _How can he pretend this isn’t affecting him too? That it isn’t a big deal he invited me to his apartment?_

His blatant disregard, his callous ease— it’s disrespectful and unwelcoming. Beth zeroes in on a solid brass candlestick sitting on the side table, no longer hearing the soothing sounds of boiling water in the background. She considers how heavy, how sure it would feel in her palm. Wonders whether the candlestick would dent the smooth panel of the stainless-steel shining like a target behind his head. Approximates how hard she would have to throw it to make a dent.

But just as quickly as these thoughts run through her head, a sharp whistle breaks her trance and Beth whips her head around to find the source. Whispers of steam slowly rise from the kettle, and with a quiet exhale, she relaxes her clenched fists buried in her coat pocket. _Perhaps a more measured approach_ , she decides.

“I like your new place,” Beth says evenly. A glint of steeliness reflects in her eyes. Rio continues to tap away on his phone, effectively ignoring her comment. But still, Beth catches the way his jaw shifts. 

After all this time, Beth knows what details to look for when she wants a better read on him. Granted, at the moment she can only glean that he _is_ annoyed, not the magnitude or even who the annoyance is directed towards. But it’s enough to see she got a rise out of Rio, even when he refuses to directly acknowledge it.

Still waiting for a response, Beth narrows her eyes and continues to stare at his profile for a few moments. Rio seems to feel her stare—her impatience—because he sighs softly, lowers his phone to clasp his hands together, and finally focuses on her. 

At first she wasn’t sure, but as the moment stretches under his dark gaze, Beth is certain that the floor is rumbling and her feet are no longer on steady ground. She shifts to find balance and tucks a ringlet of smooth blonde hair behind her ear. His blank gaze just follows her movements. He roughly breaks their weighted silence with a question.

“Whatchu want, Elizabeth?”

She blinks in indignation.

“Uh, what do _you_ want?”

“I ain’t got time for your games, sweetheart. Whatchu doing here?”

“Well, I’m dropping off your cut. Just like all the other weeks. What else would I be doing at this time of night with you?”

And for already the second time this evening, Beth regrets her decision. Beth immediately wishes she could take back her stroppy tone and suggestive words. Because she can think of _multiple_ things they could be doing together at this time, in his apartment. Because Rio now is looking too pleased for his own good as a result of her comment. Because she feels that multi-faceted, deep burgundy blob brighten quickly into a bold red.

She glances down at her boots, as if double-checking that the ground beneath her actually is stable and in one piece. When she makes eye contact again, her lips turn up but there’s no indication of joy or ease. It’s just an attempt to reclaim some normalcy and pretend she didn’t hint at something risqué. 

“Okay, well. If that’s everything, I’ll get going,” Beth shrugs and takes a few steps towards the door.

“Nah, nah. Hold up. Why’d you come here?”

“What do you mean? You asked me to, didn’t you?” Beth asks, growing more and more annoyed.

Rio gives her a confused look—one that he usually reserves for Annie when she isn’t making sense—and Beth reads that he’s caught off guard. She suddenly feels more confident, like she isn’t the only one feeling uncertain by everything going on tonight. 

“Why would I ask you to make the drop here, instead of our usual place? _Just like all the other weeks_ ,” Rio parrots back. 

His eyebrows are raised and his mouth is wide in faux interest as he nods his head, and Beth knows he’s trying to make her feel foolish. So, she tosses her bangs out of her face and saunters up to the kitchen island, positioning herself directly across from Rio. The granite feels cold and solid under her fingers as Beth grips its edges before answering a little too sweetly,

“I gave up making sense of your decisions a long time ago, boss.”

A short laugh. A shake of his head. Beth fights off a delicate smile as she watches him. There’s nothing she can do about the way her eyes shine.

“Yeah, I didn’t ask you to come here,” Rio says, pushing off the counter and moving closer towards the opposite side of the island that Beth had positioned herself against. Leaning against the granite, Rio pulls his phone out of his pocket and gives Beth a condescending look as if saying ‘ _you made a mistake, own up to it_ ’. But, Beth just raises her eyebrows and waits for him to check his messages.

Rio takes her in for a moment, letting his gaze linger on the pink of her lips and the gentle slope of her collarbone. He catches the way her blonde hair shines in the light. Catches himself staring for too long at the fit of her black sweater. He switches his focus back to his phone and thumbs through his messages.

After a second or two, he curses under his breath and she can tell he sees the text sent earlier this evening. Before she can tease Rio or say _I told you so,_ he already has the phone up to his ear. He waits no more than two rings before he’s growling into the phone,

“What the fuck, Mick? Why you sending texts from my phone that you have no business sending?”

Beth knows she should be alarmed that Mick asked her here instead of Rio, but she’s far more curious about how Rio is planning to handle this disastrous situation.

“What do you mean ‘for my own good’?”

Beth can barely make out what Mick is saying on the other line, but it sounds like a lot of complaining and dramatic statements that no one else would dare say to Rio’s face. _Well, maybe other than me._

“Oh, you’re tired of this shit?” Rio spits out, “Nah, I’ve been putting up with your shit for longer than I care to remember, _pendejo_.” 

And while everything else about Rio remains composed and solid, Beth can see his fingers twitching, searching for release. She hopes his gun is locked up somewhere far away because she actually quite likes Mick.

“Don’t you fuckin’ bring that up. _Ya te dije._ No, I told you not— _bueño_ , then I’m bringing up that _cabróna_ in Baltimore.” 

Beth hears Mick laugh loudly and mumble something in response. Rio straightens up like he’s not sure he heard Mick correctly and his bottom lip juts out. 

“Seriously, man, why would you ask me that right now? You’re really pushing your luck, huh? Yeah, I know Marcus wants to go. Look, I already said I’ll be there, a’ight?”

Rio rubs a hand over his jaw and across the back of his neck, visibly perturbed by his right-hand man’s antics. Then, he decides to go in the for the kill, 

“A'ight fine, you wanna cut a deal? _Aqui está el trato, güey_. I’ll remember to bring the coleslaw if you remember not to try this shit again. Got it?”

Beth bites her lip, trying her best not to laugh, let alone smile, as she watches Rio shake his head and hang up. She knows she should restrain herself, knows Rio is in a bad mood; but she desperately wants to know more.

“So,” Beth starts gently, waiting for Rio to look up from his phone, “sounds like you make a mean coleslaw.” 

Rio shoots her a silent, menacing look—and that should be enough to tell her she’s walking on thin ice. It’s probably in her best interest not to provoke him, but so rarely does she get the chance to have the upper hand or the opportunity to tease him. 

So, she crosses her side of the island and rounds the corner with a smug smile on her face, no longer trying to hide how much she had enjoyed listening in on his conversation. The amusement in her voice is clear when she prods a little further,

“Must be a crowd favorite if Mick’s gone to such lengths to convince you.”

The perturbation quickly drops and is masked by a blank look. He leans back a little and casually folds his hands on the counter behind his back. He lets her slither up like a snake as she takes small steps towards him. And now they’re close enough that Beth can see the dark scruff shadowing the angles of his cheeks. 

As she nears, Beth notices that he’s got that almost-pleased look on his face, the one that Beth often sees when she says something surprising or unexpected. Rio ducks his head for a moment, as if considering how he wants to play this. But then, he rolls his shoulders back in a smooth movement and meets Beth’s gaze evenly. 

_Oh crap_ , she thinks. 

She had hoped that she would have the upper hand for just a little longer, but the way he’s pulling at his bottom lip with his teeth is disarming and his eyes are aflame with something dangerous. Somewhere in the back of her mind she recognizes her reign is short-lived. 

“Enjoyin’ yourself?” Rio asks nicely and dips his head to the side.

Her confident smile falters a bit because now she remembers all over again where she is and who they are to each other. So, she retreats to where it’s safe and plainly states,

“Just satisfied knowing I did a job well done.”

“Satisfied, huh?” 

Whether or not he can sense every molecule within her tense up, Rio just drawls on, 

“Been satisfied lately, Elizabeth?”

And Beth hates this part. The part where his hooded eyes darken and smolder and his lips form a smirk that invites sin. The part where he looks at Beth like he knows her and Beth has to fight to deny that he just might. 

But as rare as these moments are, Beth is all too familiar with the way her heart beats in response without cadence.

Lips slightly parted, Elizabeth blinks once, twice. The look in his eyes is smoldering, and she’s certain the ground has completely given out beneath her. _You can’t give in, Beth. He just wants to see you react._

She grips the counter harder, trying to regain some balance. She changes the subject and asks,

“What are you going to do with Mick?”

Self-assured smugness is substituted with a scowl as Rio remembers what his friend just put him through.

“Think I gotta make him pay.” 

There’s roughness in his voice, but no malice. Rio sounds almost amused, and Beth wonders if he ever gets tired playing games. 

“Well, what’s the crime equivalent of the graveyard shift?” Beth jokes out loud before she realizes something, “Oh, wait. Is it literally a shift at a graveyard?”

Rio rejects her inane suggestion with a small scoff before thinking about it a little more, 

“Even if we were that stupid, that dumbass would probably enjoy the idea and not think it was a punishment.”

He shifts his jaw back and forth, flexing the muscles before focusing back on Beth.

“Whatchu think? Got any mama punishments or whatnot that’ll mess with him?” 

Beth notes the way he shrugs his shoulders and bounces his leg. She smirks to herself because, of course, he would mock her for all the times she’s touted her privileges as a mother of four and of course, she wasn’t going to take it lying down. 

“I don’t know,” she begins, but doesn’t even try to hide the disdain in her voice when she continues, “Depends. Does he respond better to punishments or with incentives?”

Looking to win the upper hand once again, Beth is desperate to evoke some fiery red reaction out of him. She imagines him pushing off the counter and striding over with a steely, hard look in his eyes, surfacing only for her. She thinks her words are incendiary enough for him to yank his gun out of his jeans and press it firmly against her neck. 

But instead of silver bullets and amber flames, Beth receives a lukewarm chuckle as acknowledgement. 

“Yeah, let’s stick to punishments, a’ight?”

“Whatever you say, boss,” Beth answers back evenly.

“Gonna need something we can mess with, though,” he thinks out loud, “Something he cares about.”

“Like what?” Beth asks, warming up to the idea of trouble lurking around the corner. 

“Don’t understand why, but Mick loves his car. Like really loves that piece of shit.”

“So throw some eggs at it,” she helpfully contributes with a pointed look.

“Gotta think a little bigger than that, _mamí_ ,”

“Well, pretty much anything bigger will cause permanent damage and cost a lot of money.” 

Something about this reminds Beth about the time she pitched the idea to clean the fake cash at Cloud Nine and Annie had scoffed at her choice of words when she called his colleagues “street people”. 

A lot had changed since then. She had somehow climbed deeper into the hole that was dug when they first robbed Fine & Frugal. His colleagues had become her colleagues for a short stint. She found a way to create counterfeit money, and somewhere along the line, had become acquainted with a hitman. No one would have believed that Beth would be a natural criminal, but Rio recognized something in her that not even Annie or Ruby saw. 

When she breaks from her thoughts, Beth catches the amusement in his molten brown eyes. Rio just looks at Beth like she’s the most entertaining thing he’s seen in a long time. And Beth doesn’t doubt it— _I mean, where’s his television?_

Beth opens her mouth to say something. Maybe amend her comment, maybe share what she was thinking, but doesn’t know where to start. Instead, she meets his gaze and allows her lips to quirk up just slightly upon reflection of who she’s become over these past few months. 

And for a moment, the two of them share a reserved smile. The kettle had quieted down to a hum by now, and Beth feels some of that tension between them melt into something more peaceful.

In the past, Beth had always avoided these sort of moments with Rio, and instead favored exchanges abuzz with conflict and unpredictability. She preferred to focus on the tension that overshadowed icky, tender feelings of grief and anger. She feared that in the absence of these distractions, fresh scars would be uncovered. And Beth still wasn’t able to process the enormity of what transpired all those months ago.

As they remain silent but content in their temporary truce, Beth is skeptical when she doesn’t feel anything in this peaceful moment other than a sense of comfort. One that she remembers basking in at the bar and in her backyard--before everything went downhill. She wonders if he can feel that familiarity, too. _Do you wish you never met me? Do you still hate me?_

But, she doesn’t want to remember how they were before and she puts her mind to work once again, whirring away for ways to divert their attention back to the present.

Her blue eyes brighten in excitement as she gets a genius idea. The moment of peace breaks. Nose wrinkling, Beth whispers conspiratorially, 

“What about his hot tub?” 

Rio’s eyes shine with a mischief that matches her own and then, he laughs. 

Not that mirthless one she hears when she’s being difficult and he’s exasperated. And not that light chuckle either, when he watches his son play around the park. 

This was her favorite laugh—authentic and full-bodied—and Beth feels that amorphous shape burrow deeper in her chest, making a home for itself and making it hard to ignore. The blob shifts in color to a rich, almost velvety burgundy. 

She wonders if it could have been like this all along—sharing secret plans and trusting one another as partners. Every time they had discussed business, Beth had felt backed into a corner and forced to participate in Rio’s lethal schemes. And without fail, she would scramble to escape and reverse the scenario, effectively forcing Rio into a corner of his own.

But, now? With the way Rio smiles easily in admiration and warm light from the kitchen softens his features? The way he studies her, waiting for her reaction? Now she wonders what it would be like to be in his corner. 

The angles of that blob soften into small bumps and dips, and in the back of her mind, a thought flits by. Maybe she doesn’t mind being backed into a corner, as long as it’s his.

\--

Rough idea of his new apartment in Downtown Detroit

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this is my very first fanfic _and_ first attempt at writing fiction. It was so much fun to write and I hope you like it! Please let me know what you think!


End file.
